Secrets
by normalcyphobic
Summary: Greg discovers Sara’s long-kept secret. Not a Sandles fic - just friendship and Greg’s crush on Sara hinted if you squint really, really hard . GSR faintly hinted at the end.


Title: Secrets

summary: Greg discovers Sara's long-kept secret. Not a Sandles fic - just friendship (and Greg's crush on Sara hinted if you squint really, really hard). GSR faintly hinted at the end.

rating: I'm fairly certain K's safe here

genre: friendship\(slight)drama

spoilers: Not really about events from episodes but rather about information discovered during episodes Nesting Dolls and Committed.

A/N: It's been a while since I posted my last (well, first) stories. I don't know where this one came from, really. I do know I severely lacked sleep when I wrote this... I wasn't sure who I wanted to discover the secret. By the process of elimination, I came up with either Greg, Nick, Brass or Warrick. I guess I could always rewrite it a bit to fit each of those characters in turn. Let me know if you'd like that (though it could be while until I actually post the different versions). I liked the idea of Greg, who usually likes gossipping, keeping quiet about something he understands to be of great importance. Anyway, enjoy and don't forget the reviews. And now to post it before I change my mind and either delete it or leave it in my laptop for another year or so.

Secrets

I stumbled across the information while working a case.

I had sat at a desk, looking at the crime scene photographs. It had seemed I had been doing this for hours. I stretched and rubbed my aching eyes just as Grissom entered the room and stood before me.

"How's the case coming, Greg?"

"Not so well, boss. We have nothing other than the vic's body. Doc determined COD, which was pretty obvious, and TOD but found nothing else. I found nothing on his clothing or personal effects, which were meagre. I haven't even got a suspect yet."

I paused for a moment.

"You know what, this is exactly like a case from a few years ago. I think Catherine was primary. The guy was stabbed repeatedly in the heart and there was no evidence. It's still open. And an old buddy of mine from Phoenix mentioned having worked on a very similar case about five years ago. This could be a bit far fetched, but maybe we're dealing with a serial."

Grissom seemed thoughtful for a moment.

"Pull out case files from all multiple stabbings to the chest, victim male, Caucasian, mid twenties to late thirties in the surrounding states. Go back twenty-five years. Better than nothing"

"I'll get right on it."

About an hour later, I had sorted through a lot of the cases that my research had produced and found a dozen that **could** be related to my case (some were only very subtlety similar). But I still had a lot to go through.

It is then that I stumbled upon the file containing the information.

It was a case of domestic abuse that turned into murder. The woman, sick of her husband's behaviour towards her and their children stuck a kitchen knife in his chest thirteen times.

Now, I knew there was no way this was connected to my case. This one had been solved. But the last name of the victim seemed to jump up from the computer screen and I just felt a compulsive need to pursue my reading of it for further details. I just had to be sure it had nothing to do with the woman I knew who shared this last name. But I hadn't met many people with the last name Sidle before. When I saw the case was from Tomales Bay, my heart stopped cold in my chest as I recalled that this was the childhood town of this woman who is so dear to me.

But I shook myself mentally. That meant nothing. It could have made sense that there was a cluster of Sidles in that area. The last name could have been in the area for ages. I knew nothing

of the history of that name in California, after all. Or it could have been unrelated to her and completely coincidental.

But then I saw the name of a little girl. The little girl had witnessed her mother committing her father's murder. She was coaxed with great difficulty from the bottom of her bedroom closet by a social worker. She was covered in blood spatter, and shaking. Examination revealed her body, described as small and frail, to be covered in bruises. And probing of her medical files proved them to be filled to the brim with broken bones. After her mother was put in a mental institute, she was sent into foster care.

The little girl was eleven years old. That was twenty-five years ago. The little girl would not be so little today. In fact, she would be thirty-four.

Her first name was Sara.

As much as I wanted to believe in a coincidence, I knew it wasn't. It just fit too perfectly.

That did explain a lot about my coworker and dear friend's reaction to cases involving domestic abuse.

I contemplated for a moment on what to do.

I printed the case files and logged off the computer.

A few minutes later, I found Grissom in his office. Perfect. I knocked on his door and entered before he really invited me in. I closed the door to his office.

He looked at me quizzically, and slightly annoyed, for a moment.

"What did you find?"

"I found something. It's not about the case. I mean, I did find a lot of cases that could be linked to ours, but I also found something else. It concerns someone from the team."

For once, he didn't tell me to get to the point. I think he knew I had found something important. He merely motioned at the seat in front of his desk for me to sit down. I did and sighed before adding: "It's about Sara."

I handed him the file. He took a look at it and set it down without bothering to open it. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger as he thought.

"I didn't really know wether I should go to her with this or to you, or to anyone at all. But this explains why abuse cases get to her and I thought maybe you could do something about it, you know, help her or get her help. I thought it would be a bad idea to talk to her. She might get upset that I know. She's probably just ignore me anyway or deny its effect on her. And I found you first anyway. Beside, I wouldn't have known what to say to her..."

"Listen, Greggo...", he finally interrupted me. The sound of the name my coworkers and friends affectionately call me calmed me down a bit and I stopped my explanatory rant to let him speak. "Just don't tell anyone about this and don't tell her you know. She doesn't want anyone here to know. Do you understand?"

"You already knew."

It was not a question. It was a statement. My jaw dropped a bit. I was surprised he knew this already.

"How?", I began, before I thought better of it and added: "Never mind. None of my business."

I did need one answer, however.

"But she is doing okay now, right? You did something about it to help her? I mean, I know she was affected by some cases a while ago, but I haven't seen or heard of her getting in trouble lately."

"Yes, Greg. She's doing much better now." He answered smiling gently at me. He had never smiled at me that way before. He knows how much I care about Sara. She's my dearest friend here. She's always been there for me wether it was to help me during my training, to help me on a case or when the first cases I worked on got to me when I realized what people do to each other, and to children.

"I won't say anything to anyone, and I won't tell Sara I know. You have my word."

At his nod, I left his office. Walking down the hallways, I kept thinking about what I had just found out. I never knew she had went though so much and at such a young age. I was only glad she had managed to deal with it.

That was confirmed when I observed her very closely and very discretely during the next few weeks. Especially the case of domestic abuse we worked on together (everyone else was already out in the field). The case was obviously tough on her. But she managed to solve it without breaking down or losing control. And she generally smiled a lot during those weeks. And those smiles were genuine. Not the fake smiles she usually produced. She truly was happy. I began to think that maybe she had a further reason to be so happy... let's say, a man in her life. But, I realized, the only man who could make her happy was Grissom. Well, they _had_ been on much better terms lately. But Sara and our boss? No way. There was chemistry there, but Grissom would never risk their career that way. Would he?


End file.
